


The Fuel of Passion

by forkflinger



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Kitagawa Yusuke, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 10:11:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18134402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forkflinger/pseuds/forkflinger
Summary: It hasn't bothered Yusuke, before; he had much more pressing concerns. But now, the dust is long settled and they've all moved on, and something he expected to develop never did. He's beginning to worry.Yusuke has conversations with Ann and Futaba and makes a discovery.





	The Fuel of Passion

Yusuke had a problem. He’d fallen into a bit of a slump; something seemed to be lacking. So much great art had been created in pursuit of some force that drove the hearts of men to glory or despair, to greatness or ruin. To be a great artist was to embrace the fire and passion of the human spirit, and he was growing increasingly sure that his was… missing something.

He suspected it was sex. 

Yusuke had always assumed that these things would come later, and hadn’t worried himself too much about when. He’d gotten the gist of it from hearsay and culture. He heard classmates talk about crushes and watched them pair off and just assumed that eventually, someone would catch his eye. He had other concerns, at the time, and it wasn’t like he had anyone chasing his affections. 

For a time, after he met the Phantom Thieves, after his world was shattered, he again assumed it would come later. Who would have time for such trivial things in that situation? Madarame had repressed him in ways he’d be unpacking for years to come; surely this was just another. Something else to relearn. But time passed, and he began to heal, and still nothing developed. And now, almost two years later, he was concerned.

Was something wrong?

He’d always been a bit of a strange child, somber and serious. He’d grown into a young man who spoke in florid language and didn’t quite grasp the intricacies of social interaction. Futaba had diagnosed him with boundary issues. Of course, her boundaries were a bit abnormal themselves, but the rest of the Thieves weren’t inclined to disagree. So it made sense, that he would be a bit behind the curve in matters of the heart. Still, he wondered.

He was, as far as he could tell, physically sound. He had, once or twice, late at night, alone in his room, with the lights out and the door locked, experimented. And it was fine. Pleasant, even, if a bit messy. But he didn’t feel the same _need_ that it seemed some of his peers did, and it just didn’t make sense. Politicians and businessmen ruined their careers for sex. People destroyed living relationships, driven by these desires. Men paid exorbitant prices for this sensation, and it couldn’t have been worth it.

Sometimes, when Ryuji jostled him and made a vulgar joke, he considered saying something. Sometimes, when a stranger whistled at Ann and she punched him, he considered asking why. Sometimes, when Haru blushed at some innocuous comment and hid her face, he considered asking if she felt like him, if he wasn’t alone in this. But - boundary issues. Better to stay far back than to overstep. 

Fortunately, eventually, someone else crossed that boundary for him.

 

Ann had a problem and the problem was the lobsters.

Listen, she was hot. She knew she was hot. She was a model, for crying out loud. She was paid to be professionally hot. Grown men occasionally threw themselves at her feet. It was an objective fact.

So of course, when Yusuke first approached her, she assumed he was into her, because everybody was into her. She wasn’t surprised when he asked her to model. And even with her initial trepidation, the plan to distract him had worked. Because, despite his protestations, despite his insistence that he didn’t see her that way, Yusuke had to be attracted to her. Like, what else could it be?

But then they became friends, and never again did she catch him so much as looking at her funny. Ryuji, who knew damn well nothing would ever happen between them, still made dirty jokes at her expense. There was almost something with Akira, she was sure, and she had strong suspicions about Haru. Hell, even the cat kept hitting on her. But Yusuke? Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Then the lobsters.

Seriously, lobsters?

Because he talked about those lobsters the way he’d once talked about her. And they were freaking lobsters! Horrible gray ugly little monsters! Too many legs and eyes that stuck out on stalks and she did not like the way they curled up, oh no. Gross in every way. The only acceptable form for a lobster was boiled and buttered, not alive and twitching.

She had to be prettier than lobsters! Didn’t she?

It wasn’t a constant issue. It didn’t gnaw at her in every waking hour or anything like that. But once in a while, she’d walk by a seafood place or catch Yusuke staring off into nothing, and he couldn’t possibly! Lobsters?

So when she finally decided to confront him about it, it was a spur of the moment decision. They were walking down the street on their way to try a new café when she spun around and said, “Yusuke, do you think lobsters are hotter than me?”

Yusuke stopped in his tracks and blinked in surprise. “I’m sorry?”

“The lobsters!” She waved her hands in the air demonstratively, but it didn’t seem to clarify anything. “Is it a weird fetish or something? What’s the deal?”

Yusuke frowned. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Ann sighed and started walking again, and Yusuke fell back into step beside her. “Okay, so, when we met, you begged me to model for you. Right?”

“Yes, and I would still appreciate the opportunity, but I understand your reluctance.”

Ann waved it off. “Sure, yeah, whatever. But why?”

“Why? Hmm.” Yusuke paused to give the question some thought. “I suppose I was mostly attracted by your grace,” he eventually answered. “It can be a difficult aspect to capture in an image. The beauty of a body in motion, frozen on a canvas, can be exquisite.”

“Uh-huh.” Ann glanced at her phone and turned down a street. “And the nude part?”

“The nude is an artistic tradition!” Yusuke declared, gesturing for emphasis. “It strips away layers of pretense and disguise, to allow an artist to truly reveal the soul of the model.”

“And her breasts,” Ann mumbled.

“T-that’s not the point,” Yusuke stammered. “Certainly some art has… tended towards…”

“So when we went to the beach,” Ann mercifully interrupted, “you lost your mind about those stupid lobsters, remember that?”

“Indeed.” Yusuke closed his eyes for a moment in recollection. “Striking creatures. Such daring form, bold aesthetics - truly under appreciated.”

Ann rolled her eyes. They arrived at the cafe they were seeking, and Ann paused with her hand on the door handle. “But you were also at the beach,” she said slowly, like she was explaining something blatantly obvious, “with _me_. In a _bikini_. Why on earth would you have been more excited about _lobsters_?”

“I - “ Yusuke fell silent, frowning. Ann groaned and yanked open the door to the cafe. They were greeted as they entered and directed to a table. Ann ordered tea and a strawberry cake; Yusuke asked for the same without looking at the menu. When they were alone at the table Ann leaned forward.

“You know I’m your friend, right?” she asked, concern furrowing her brow. “You can trust me.”

“I am aware,” Yusuke mumbled, not quite meeting her gaze. 

“Yusuke.” Ann leaned even closer and spoke in a whisper. “Do you not like girls?”

“I have nothing against women,” Yusuke answered. “I’m friends with several, yourself included.”

“Not like that!” Ann fell back into her chair. “You know what I mean. Like, _like_ like.”

Yusuke took a deep breath. “Truthfully, I’m not sure I do know what you mean,” he admitted. “I don’t know that I _like_ ,” he emphasized the word the same way she had, “anyone.”

Ann opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by the arrival of the food and drinks. Yusuke busied himself with his tea, but it did little to calm his frazzled nerves. That simple sentence had been more difficult than he would have expected, and judging by the expression on Ann’s face, the conversation was far from over.

And indeed, Ann continued once the waiter was out of earshot. “So,” she said, keeping her voice low, “are you gay? Because that would be okay, Yusuke.”

“I don’t believe I am,” Yusuke replied, gazing down into his tea. “While the male body has been under-appreciated in art, I do not personally find it any more… exciting than yours.” He could feel his face burning. “Or lobsters.”

Ann’s expression had lost the edge it bore earlier; frustration was replaced with confusion. “You’re not gay,” she said, “but you’re not into girls either? So what are you?”

“I don’t know,” he answered flatly. “I suppose I’m nothing.”

“Hey, you’re not _nothing_.” Ann drummed her fingers on the table. “You can’t be nothing. Maybe you just haven’t met anyone you like yet. You could just have really high standards.” She paused, remembering that she apparently did not qualify. “Really high.”

Yusuke shook his head. “I can appreciate someone beautiful. But I’ve never felt compelled to - “ he felt his cheeks growing warm “ - do the kinds of things other people seem to.”

“You don’t want to - “ Ann glanced around and whispered again. “Like, have sex?”

The conversation was veering into what seemed like dangerous territory. “It’s not important,” he said. “Don’t trouble yourself.”

Ann frowned. “It’s not trouble, Yusuke. If you really don’t want to talk about it we don’t have to. But it sounds like it’s bothering you.”

Yusuke prodded the slice of cake in front of him with his fork. “It is,” he finally admitted. “I’ve been thinking about it lately, perhaps too much.” He sighed. “I feel as if I am missing something. Even heartbreak seems like it would be better than emptiness.”

Ann shook his head. “You’re being dramatic, Yusuke. Which is nothing new for you, but still.” She lifted a forkful of cake to her mouth. “Maybe you’re just not into anyone you know,” she said, muffled by the cake. “Like, what about a celebrity or an idol or something?”

“I can’t say I’ve ever had much interest.”

“Okay, but what about Akira? I know you had a little bit of a crush on him. We all did. Even Ryuji. Even _Haru_.”

Yusuke had considered that same question himself. “I will admit, I was… fond of our leader. But that did not extend to…” It was hard to even think about, let alone say out loud. There had been times, yes, quiet moments alone with Akira where he’d felt closer than he ever had to anyone else. But he’d never felt the physical desire that it seemed he should have. Perhaps that was why he’d never made those affections clear.

“Okay, well… so what?” Ann dug her fork into the cake again. “There’s worse things than being single. What’s the rush?”

Yusuke looked away, casting his gaze downwards. “If I am truly lacking desire, how could I be a great artist?” he asked. “I’m missing the motivation behind many of the greatest artworks ever crafted. You said so yourself. Many of the paintings and sculptures I thought beautiful were probably just excuses for - “ He cut himself off, blushing. “And I was too naive to realize.”

“Okay, no.” Ann waved her fork for empahsis. “That’s just not true. What about that French guy with all the weird cubes?”

Yusuke thought for a moment. “Picasso was Spanish, and an infamous womanizer with many mistresses.”

“Oh.” Ann frowned. “Okay, what about that other French guy, the one with all the sunflowers?”

“Van Gogh was Dutch, and famously delivered his severed ear to a lover.”

“Gross. What about the French guy with the one really famous painting and the fancy church and stuff?”

Yusuke sighed. “Ann, none of these artists are French.”

“Okay, fine, I don’t know art.” Ann huffed and leaned her chin on her hand. “Whatever. My point is, there’s lots of art that isn’t about sex. What about _Sayuri_? That’s about love, but definitely not sex, right?” 

”I hadn’t considered that,” Yusuke said quietly.

“And I’m sure there’s a lot more!” Ann nodded triumphantly. “There’s gotta be tons. There’s way more interesting stuff out there than cute boys.” She stirred some sugar into her tea. “Maybe you just haven’t met anybody you like yet,” she said. “You could just be a late bloomer or whatever.”

“Hmm.” He sipped his tea. “It had occurred to me, but…” He hesitated. “If it’s not too bold, may I ask, when did you first… like someone?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Ann thought for a minute. “I mean there were cute boys at school, but my first real crush was probably in middle school, I guess? Ooh, but I was really into this boy band for a while too.”

“So you were quite a bit younger than we are now.”

“Yeah. But - okay, just a _really_ late bloomer. That still doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you.” Ann reached across the table and rested a hand on his. He jumped a little from the contact and finally raised his eyes to meet hers. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” she repeated, holding his gaze. “You’re just fine the way you are, whatever that means. If this is a problem, we can figure it out.”

Yusuke may have had his doubts, but he couldn’t deny that Ann, at least, seemed very certain. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. If he couldn’t depend on his own strength, hadn’t he learned that he could depend on hers? “Thank you,” he said, squeezing her hand briefly before pulling away.

Ann settled back down and finally turned her full attention to her cake. “This cake is great,” she said, sinking her fork into it again. “These strawberries are huge! How’s the tea?”

“Very good,” Yusuke answered, picking up his cup for another sip. “Well made, to be sure.”

The conversation continued without returning to the subject. They both agreed that the cafe had been worth the trip, and they’d probably come back. Ann chattered about her job, about school, about what Shiho was up to nowadays. 

It wasn’t until they were back at the subway station, waiting for their trains, that Ann gave Yusuke a look and squeezed his hand. “Thanks for talking to me today,” she said. “And trusting me.”

Yusuke nodded. “It feels,” and he paused, “nice, I think. To have told someone. I’ve been thinking about it too much by myself.”

“That’s what friends are for.” A train pulled into the platform. “Oops, that’s me,” Ann said, hoisting her bag and taking off at a jog. “Text me later!” she called, waving as she jumped through the doors. 

Yusuke smiled and waved back as the doors closed and the train pulled out of the station. He pulled his phone from his pocket to glance at the time; it would be a few minutes until his train arrived at the opposite platform. Before he could tuck his phone away, it buzzed and a message lit up the screen. 

Ann: text me if you want to talk more! and we’re still for the movie this weekend!!

He tapped out a brief response and tucked the phone into his pocket. Nothing had changed, really, but his heart felt a bit lighter. Ann’s reassurances had dampened his worries. Any problem could be solved, including this one.

 

Futaba had a problem. Yusuke wasn’t paying enough attention to Featherman Genesis ReMix: The Animation.

Yusuke never actually remember agreeing to watch anime with Futaba. Somehow, he wound up in her room, sitting on the corner of her bed while vivid animation splashed across one of her computer monitors. He did have to admit, he could see the appeal of the medium. The colors were bold and bright, and the variety of subject matter and genres allowed for fantastic landscapes and strikingly imaginative designs. He had even considered incorporating some elements into his own artwork. Many of these shows had themes too ridiculous to imagine acted out in a different format, but somehow presenting them through animation made them palpable. 

He had rather lost the thread of this one, though. When a hooded figure ripped off its cloak in revelation, he failed to have the appropriate reaction and was punished with Futaba’s disappointment, strong enough for her to turn her attention away from the other computer screen.

“It’s her sister!” she shouted, waving an arm at the screen. “How are you not amazed!”

“She had a sister?”

“Yeah, and she disappeared when they were little! They thought she died and it turns out she’s been with them the whole time! It’s only the biggest twist in anything ever!”

“I see.” Yusuke leaned in closer, as if by inspecting the screen he could remember a bit of flashback from seven episodes ago. “Why did no one recognize her before?”

“Duh! Because of the cloak?” Futaba spun around in her chair, shaking her head. “Honestly, Inari. Haven’t you been paying attention at all?”

The nickname didn’t bother him anymore. He’d matured, and they’d become such good friends, and even if it _did_ bother him he was _well_ above responding to it and thus _didn’t_ because it didn’t bother him, obviously. Instead he just shrugged.

“Ugh. Alright, well, watch closely,” she said, waving at the screen again as she turned back to her keyboard, “because I know I said that was the biggest twist ever but there’s gonna be more and you need to see it.”

“Hmm.” He settled back down, leaning against a pillow propped up against the wall. “Is it going to be the reveal that their little alien companion is in fact working for the villain?”

Futaba spun back around. “How did you - have you seen this before?” she accused.

“No, it just seemed obvious. He’s always missing during key sequences, and the symbol on his neck matches the one on the villain’s back.”

“Well that’s - “

“Futaba!” Sojiro’s voice came booming up the stairs, followed by heavy footsteps. “Do I hear a boy in your room?”

“Ugh, Daaaad!” Futaba shouted back. “It’s just Yusuke!”

Sojiro appeared in the doorway, wearing a fierce expression that vanished when he spotted Yusuke sitting on the bed. “Oh. Hey, Yusuke. Futaba making you watch that one about the little alien dog again?”

“He’s not a dog!” Futaba protested.

“It does have some interesting developments,” Yusuke responded. “Apparently the main character’s sister has been alive and pursuing them for some time.”

“Yeah, I didn’t get that,” said Sojiro, leaning against the door frame. “I missed out on her even having a sister, I guess.”

“Guh, you’re both useless!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sojiro stood up straight again. “Well, you kids have fun. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Daaaaad,” Futaba sang as Sojiro disappeared. “He’s been so weird lately,” she said once he was out of sight. “He keeps asking me about boys. I guess he thinks I’m ‘getting to that age’ or something. Gross.”

Yusuke nodded. “I see. Well, I suppose it’s a good thing I’m not a threat.” He paused. “Although I wonder if I ought to be offended.”

“Oh, that’s just because he thinks you’re gay,” Futaba answered. 

Yusuke frowned. “Why would he think that?” It was hardly the first time Yusuke’d run into the assumption, but it felt strange to learn that an adult had been speculating about his sexuality. Even stranger was the concept that he could be up here in Futaba’s room for - doing - his stomach lurched at the thought. 

She shrugged. “Probably just, y’know. Everything about you.”

“That seems rather rude.”

“Hey, it’s not me. If you want to change his mind just make out with Ann in front of him.” Futaba snickered. “Not that that’s likely to happen any time soon.”

“No, it’s not,” said Yusuke, perhaps a bit more forcefully than he intended. “I have no desire to make out with Ann.” 

Maybe he was still feeling buoyed by the conversation with Ann. Maybe he was distracted by the show still blaring on the other monitor. Maybe it was because it was just Futaba, after all.

But he added, “Or anyone, for that matter.”

“Oh,” said Futaba, without missing a beat. “So you’re not gay, you’re ace.”

Yusuke blinked. He didn’t know what reaction he’d expected, but that wasn’t it. “Sorry?”

“Ace,” Futaba repeated, in the tone of voice she used when explaining something that should have been obvious if only the other person was as smart as her. “Asexual.”

“I - I don’t believe I’ve heard that term before.”

Futaba sighed and once again spun her chair to face him. “If you liked girls, you’d be straight. If you like guys, you’d be gay. If you liked both, you’d be bi or pan or whatever, and if you don’t like anybody, you’re ace. It’s not that hard to understand, Inari.”

The condescending tone and nickname blew right past him; he was rather distracted by her actual words. “Is that so,” he murmured, trying to keep his composure. Not only did Futaba seem unfazed by his confession, she spoke as if she’d heard of it before. She had a name for it. There _was_ a name for it. Such a thing could hardly be considered a revelation, but his heart was racing.

“Uh… you alright there?” asked Futaba, waving a hand in front of his face. Yusuke shook his head with a start; he hadn’t noticed her rising from her chair.

“I - I wasn’t aware that was an option.”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not super common, but it happens.” She leaned in close, peering at him. “Are you okay?”

Yusuke didn’t bother moving back when she invaded his space. “Do you know much about this?” he asked. “Can you tell me more?”

“Yeesh.” Futaba retreated to her chair and spun freely. “I’m not an expert or anything,” she said, her voice oscillating with the motion, “but it’s not like it’s a secret. It’s on the Internet. Just look it up.”

“Ah.” Yusuke, who had trouble getting his phone to do anything more complex than open the messaging app someone else had installed for him, nodded. “Of course.”

Futaba sighed. “I forgot. It’s you. Fine.” She turned back to the desk. The anime finally paused, reducing the room to near silence except for the hum of her machines and the clacking of her keyboard. A new window flashed up on the screen. Yusuke rose from his seat on the bed to read over her shoulder, one hand resting on the back of the chair.

“Here,” she said, pulling up a wordy webpage. “Start here.” She dragged it to one side where he could read it and resumed whatever it was she was doing on the rest of the screen. Yusuke couldn’t possibly have parsed the strange language she was typing in, but he didn’t care to try.

It took him several minutes to read and reread the information in front of him. There it was, laid out clearly, a summary of all his concerns written by someone else who shared them. He felt - well, he felt quite a bit at the moment, actually, but foremost was a sense of relief. Despite Ann’s confidence, he’d still feared what it meant for him to lack what seemed like a basic human instinct. But at least he wasn’t alone.

He took a few steps back until he felt the edge of Futaba’s bed, then sat heavily. Futaba glanced over her shoulder at him; she almost looked concerned. “It’s not that big a deal,” she said, frowning. 

Yusuke took a breath and found it shaky and shallow. “I thought… I had thought…”

Futaba turned to face him fully. “Are you crying?”

He was, which seemed foolish. He wiped a tear from his eye with the heel of his palm. “I didn’t know - I thought I - “ He tried to take a breath and find his words, but wound up with a sob instead. 

Futaba drew her knees up to her chest and watch him carefully, perched on her chair. “Hey,” she said softly, but didn’t seem to know what to follow up with. The situation had veered pretty wildly out of her comfort zone.

“I thought there was something wrong with me,” he finally forced out. He didn’t know why he was telling Futaba, of all people, except that she was here and he needed to say something. “I thought that I’d been broken. That Madarame had taken this from me too.”

“That’s not how it works,” Futaba said. “It’s just how you’re born.”

“Yes, I… I understand that, now.” Whatever document she’d pulled up had mentioned that, along with several other tidbits that addressed the things gnawing at him. he had plenty of time to digest the information he’d been given; for now, he needed to catch his breath. He closed his eyes and forced himself to take a deep, slow breath. Then another. When he opened his eyes again, Futaba was still watching him carefully. “I’m sorry,” he said, blinking back tears. “I didn’t mean to speak so frankly.”

“Eh, it’s okay.” She unfolded, leaning her elbows on her thighs. “Guess you were kinda worked up about this, huh?”

“It has been on my mind lately,” he answered. “And it hadn’t seemed like… a suitable topic of conversation.”

“I get what you mean. Sojiro keeps trying to have ‘the talk’ with me. Ick.” She stuck out her tongue. “I hate trying to talk about that stuff.”

“It is a delicate topic.” He cleared his throat and folded his arms in front of him. “I appreciate your insight, however.”

“Hey, no problem. Happy to help.” Futaba grinned widely. “Should I put the show back on now?”

“You might as well,” Yusuke said, settling back into the pillows. “I believe the enemy commander was about to double-cross her leader?”

“Okay, you _have_ seen this before.”

“Not a single episode.”

Futaba rolled her eyes, turned back to the computer, and clicked. On the side monitor the show flared back to life, the cheerful theme music signaling the start of a new episode. Problems were mounting for the characters on screen, faced with betrayals and hidden identities. Yusuke was having a much easier time following the twists of the plot now. It was easier to understand their problems when he no longer had one of his own.


End file.
